


Five Times Jacob killed Paul and one time he didn't

by paraboobizarre



Category: The Following
Genre: 5+1 Things, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, kink_following
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 16:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paraboobizarre/pseuds/paraboobizarre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spontaneous fill for the <a href="http://kink-following.livejournal.com/">kink_meme</a> over at Livejournal because seriously, who wants to write a term paper when there's fanfiction you could be writing *rolls eyes at self*</p><p>For the prompt: "DAT ENDING, MAN. Would love fic where Jacob hallucinates Paul and kills him five different ways to make him go away, and one time he hallucinates him and doesn't want to make him go away."</p><p>SPOILERS for 1x10</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Jacob killed Paul and one time he didn't

The thing about Paul is: he can be really persistent. Paul's ghost, if anything, seems to have inherited that trait from the original.  
His first day back with Joe and the others, is only the beginning and after slashing Paul's throat in the bathroom Jacob doesn't expect Paul to show up anymore. 

Everything's alright the next morning. He wakes up, strangely enough looking forward to seeing Emma's face and her reaction to him, and there's no Paul. No one comes out of the bathroom. There is no body in the shower.  
It happens at breakfast. There are a couple of people down in the kitchen, eating, talking and Jacob has just sat down with his bowl of cereal when the door opens and Emma walks in. The look on her face – God, he just wishes he had a camera right now to preserve that expression for posterity. That deer in the headlights look on her – 

“She's scared shitless of you after what you did last night,” comes a whisper in his ear.  
He whirls around, almost knocking his bowl off the table. It's Paul, casually leaning against the table next to him. He tosses an orange into the air, catches it again and smiles Jacob.  
“I'm really proud of you.”  
Jacob runs out of the kitchen, ignoring the concerned calls of the others.  
This can't be happening.

Paul catches up with him on the mansion's grounds. Jacob's pacing in an isolated corner, out of sight, trying to get his head back together, when Paul suddenly steps out from behind an oak tree. 

“So I was thinking. Best to leave Emma alone for a bit, let her stew in her own juices.” He takes a few steps forward to reach for him, but Jacob jerks his arm away. A look of impatience flashes across Paul's face but he continues. “That way she'll always be on edge and when you eventually do kill her – ”  
“I'm not going to kill Emma!” Jacob hisses, slapping Paul's arm away as he reaches for him again.

“She's the reason I'm dead,” Paul insists, suddenly in front of him, standing so close Jacob can feel his breath as he speaks. This can't be happening. He's hallucinating. Just close your eyes. It'll be okay.

“I love you. Remember that?” Paul whispers, his lips brushing against the shell of Jacob's ear in a way that makes goose bumps race up his back and arms.

Maybe this should make Jacob feel sad, but all it does is ignite the rage that's been boiling underneath the surface ever since he left Paul lying on that couch.  
He pushes Paul away, making him stumble backwards. Another step, another push until Paul is standing in front of the tree again. There's a broken branch sticking out, all gnarly and jagged.  
Pushing Paul against it, harder and harder, till he feels the wood breach his skin, slide into his body like a knife, is easier than Jacob thought.  
Blood soaks through the cotton and Paul looks down at his chest and back up at Jacob, a look of genuine surprise on his face. Then his face splits apart in a huge grin, blood climbing the cracks between his teeth.

***

The second time Jacob kills Paul is in the kitchen.  
It's late, past 3 am already, but Jacob can't sleep so he's alone in the kitchen, heating up some milk. He hasn't seen Paul since he impaled him against that tree four days ago, but when he turns away from the stove to grab a mug, there he is, sitting at the long kitchen counter, playing with a knife.

“Can't sleep either, huh?” He pushes his glasses back up his nose.  
Jacob always hated those glasses but Paul would still wear them sometimes even after getting contacts. Ignoring Paul, Jacob rounds the counter to get his mug.

The key is not interacting with him. It. Just ignore it and it'll go away.

“Yeah, that's not really how this works, Jacob,” Paul drawls, twirling the knife on the counter and watching him pour the milk into the cup, opening a drawer to get a spoon.  
Now honey. Honey, honey, honey. Where's the damn – 

“Cabinet on your right, top shelf, next to the mustard,” Paul supplies helpfully, pointing his knife at the cabinet.

Jacob ignores him, just opens the cabinet and there, next to a jar of Coleman's mustard, is the damn honey.

“What? No _thank you, Paul_?” Paul mocks from behind him, “Seriously, what kind of an example are you setting for Joey, not saying thank you after someone helped you.” He clucks his tongue and Jacob can hear the handle of the knife swish against the counter top as he twirls it again.

“Stop it.” He demands in an as even a tone as he can manage. His fingers are clawing at the counter top so hard his knuckles are turning white.

Swish swish swish goes the knife, spinning on the counter and Paul watches it turn.

Swish. Jacob puts down his mug and starts rounding the kitchen counter. Swish swish. Standing next to Paul he can actually feel the warmth radiating from his bare skin. Swish. Swish. Swish.  
When Jacob grabs the knife and plunges it into Paul's heart, he can feel the blood trickling down between his fingers.

***

The third time is quick and painless. 

Jacob's out on the grounds, helping a group of people cleaning up and pruning the garden. He's not particularly skilled at anything to do with landscaping so he's manning the wood chipper.  
Paul appears halfway through, needling him about when are we going to kill Emma and don't you know I love and she killed me you got to kill her she's the reason I'm dead why won't you do this for me you know you want to come on kill her it's going to be fun I'll help you I love you and Jacob simply snaps, grabbing Paul by the collar of his shirt and pushing him into the wood chipper.

The guy scooping up woodchips behind the machine doesn't notice Paul splattering all over him.

***

The fourth and fifth time Jacob kills Paul in one evening.

It's evening and Jacob's soaking in the tub, mentally listing all his various aches and pains. Someone died in the house – a spat between two followers and isn't that just what you get when you fill up a house with killers and psychopaths – and they had to dig a grave on the grounds. Jacob volunteered, hoping it would take his mind off things.

“My bet is that it was this one shifty looking chick with the seemingly endless collection of pastel twin sets,” Paul says, spitting into the sink where he's brushing his teeth.  
He's naked and Jacob averts his eyes, studying the ceiling with intense interest.  
Paul rinses his mouth, spits again, before he continues.

“I mean seriously, she may look like your typical librarian but whenever you look in her eyes.” He adopts a manic expression as he steps closer to the tub, his face distorting into a horrible rictus grin. “Totally crazy!”

Water swaps over the edge of the tub when Paul gets in. Jacob instinctively pulls his legs towards his chest, hugging his knees. The water that seemed so deliciously warm before is now giving him chills.

“Come on, don't be like that,” Paul chides, spreading out in the tub. “It's not like you haven't seen me naked before, so don't look so horrified.” 

“You know it's not that,” Jacob tells the tiles.

“Hey.” Water sloshes around them as Paul scoots closer.  
“Hey, look at me.”

When Jacob looks up Paul is so close he can actually smell the minty fresh scent of toothpaste on his breath. He is so fucked.  
Paul bites his bottom lip, looking up at him through those stupidly long lashes of his, before he leans closer, his eyes slipping shut and Jacob lets it happen.  
He lets Paul get so close he can feel his breath leaving him, stealing across Jacob's own lips, before his hands close around Paul's throat.

Suffocating someone with your bare hands is harder than with a pillow and just like last time Paul fights him, grappling at his arms and trashing against him.  
Eventually he goes still though, his eyes staring up uncomprehendingly at the water stained ceiling.

Jacob lets out a shuddering breath, pushing Paul's body away from him and rubbing at his face in a futile attempt to regain his composure. It doesn't feel like his legs will support him when he pulls himself out of the tub. Grabbing the nearest towel, he can see his hands shaking.

“How many more times are you going to kill me before you realize I'm not going anywhere?” Comes a sing song voice from behind, making Jacob stop dead in his tracks. 

“Fucking leave me alone!” Jacob roars, pushing against Paul's chest so hard he stumbles and falls against the long mirror on the wall. Jacob is on him like lightening, his fingers burying themselves in Paul's short hair, smashing his face into the mirror again and again until shards of glass are pooling around his feet, until the wall is splattered with Paul's blood, until the sound of Paul's skull connecting with the wall turns from a hard dull thumping into something horrible squishy and wet.

***

Paul comes, a fifth time, that same night.

Jacob's lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling in his darkened room, listening to the sounds of the house around him going to sleep. From time to time he hears the strange call of some nocturnal creature but apart from that, it's so quiet it feels like he is the last person on earth. 

“You know what used to be probably the thing I loved most about being with you?”

Jacob doesn't need to look over to know that Paul is lying next to him. He can feel the dip in the mattress and his warmth spreading underneath the sheets.  
He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling the sting of tears. He has had about as much of this as he can take. 

Paul softly runs his fingers through his hair and it's a gesture so familiar it makes Jacob's heart cramp in his chest. 

“It was that every night I would go to bed and lay down and there was your scent on the sheets all around me,” Paul tells him, his voice hushed as if he's afraid someone will hear him.  
“I think the moment I realized how happy something simple like that made me, was the moment I fell in love with you.”

Jacob tries to swallow around the lump in his throat. He wants to say something, anything really, but he knows there's nothing to say anymore. At least not to Paul, who loved him and who's dead and who still won't leave him alone, so he just rolls over into Paul's arms, crowding closer until all he can smell and feel and hear is Paul.


End file.
